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The first thing to note when Milo came back and realized his surroundings again, was that his skin felt almost wrong, too lose in a way, maybe.
Which was insane and didn't make any kind of sense, because it was *his* skin, *his* body, nothing was *different.*
And then he realized, actually yeah, it maybe was kind of different.
For one of them.
For Miguel.
It was like, it was a little bit like wearing a sweater that was too baggy, it wasn't uncomfortable per se, it just felt a bit too wrong?
Because Milo learned how to grow into his skin, he grew with it, because he was twenty now, and Miguel hadn't grown into it quite yet, because he was ten.
He was twenty, and his skin fit, and the paint ran all melted off the frame behind him, and his face was soaked in tears, and Bárbara was right there.
"Milo? Are you okay? What happened?"
Someone said somewhere beside him, Amelie he thought maybe, but he wasn't really listening.
All he knew was Bárbara was right there in front of him, looking somewhere between confused and worried.
"Bárbara,"
Milo took a couple steps forward and put a hand on her face.
"What do you see?"
Her hair was long and a bit curly and kind of honey colored and a white flower behind her ear, she had a few new scars on her face and few places where she hadn't quite gotten old blood off, brown eyes framed by dark circles.
"What do you mean?"
She put her hand on top of his, the one gently holding her cheek.
"What do you see, Bárbara?"
"I see you? And you're crying. I don't-"
Her hair was long and a bit curly and kind of honey colored and a white flower behind her ear, she had a few freckles and the faint beginnings of a would be bruise just above the corner of her mouth from a slap, brown eyes bright and confused.
Miguel was ten and his skin didn't fit and he had a matching flower behind his ear and he held Bárbara's face while more tears ran down his own.
"Who do you see, Bárbara?"
She opened her mouth a few times, but no responses came out, she just had both hands on his face, wiping cheekbones with thumbs occasionally.
The white flower sat a bit crooked and the petals were speckled red, her freckles still showed very slightly beneath everything, and maybe, just maybe, she was ten again when she listened this time.